


Red Rocket Terminal Log

by whoisthiswho



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Slow Burn, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoisthiswho/pseuds/whoisthiswho
Summary: Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) TermlinkWelcome, Red Rocket Employee!------------------------------------------The personal logs of the sole survivor, Atticus Carter, after waking up 210 years in the future.





	1. Red Rocket Terminal Log 1

**Author's Note:**

> These logs are essentially what happened during my M!SoSu Brotherhood playthrough. Just a few quick notes--Kaela Carter is my Railroad F!SoSu, and is Atticus' wife, he does stop moping after a few logs, and a lot of the weird stuff that happens is because of glitches and weird shit I accidently did. Also, these are really short but I have a couple longer pieces that go along with this SoSu's story. 
> 
> Let me know if there's any weird spelling or grammar because I don't usually reread these before posting.

It’s been a few days since I left Vault 111. Or...maybe a week. I’m not really sure. You’d think time would pass slower with no one to talk to but it just seems to be speeding up for me. I...am a little lost. I knew I couldn’t stay in Sanctuary. Every moment I spent there brought me back to before the war. Our neighbors, our friends, all gone. Instantly. Their skeletons are still there. 

I saw some signs that something human passed through. Candles, campfires, sleeping bags. That’s hopeful, I suppose. Codsworth said there were people down in Concord, but I’ve yet to travel anywhere aside from the outskirts. From the edges I could hear very distant snatches of conversation, and none of it seemed too friendly. 

For the last few days I’ve been setting up Red Rocket as my new home, I guess. It smells like ancient coolant and oil. So basically, like Ms. Rosa and her son. Oddly enough, I never found their skeletons. But enough morbidity. It has some power from god-knows-where, and a lot of spare tires lying around. If I can find some copper and more steel, I might be able to make some kind of makeshift generator on the roof. It’s plenty windy up there. 

I find myself turning to talk to her, to ask her a question about the build, but she’s just not there. We spent the past 3 years of our lives together day and night, and now she’s just. Gone. 

And there’s nothing I can do.


	2. Red Rocket Terminal Log 2

For someone with no job and no path in life, I’m very busy. The Dog I first met in Red Rocket--I’m sure he has a name, but I don’t know what it is--is one hell of a companion. He helped me clear the storage cave under the Station. Thank god he alerted me to the fumes before I used my gun. I would have had significantly less eyebrow (and skin, and hair, and life) if I had set it off while standing in it. We found a load of scrap, and mole rat meat that I cooked up for dinner. Much better than the few expired cans of Pork n Beans I'd been finding for the past week. 

I took the main road to Concord today while scavenging. Big mistake. I saw a dead two headed cow (a two headed cow!!) in the fork and three huge ass mosquitos literally exploded from the viscera. It's downright nightmare fuel. I guess being bit by pre-war mosquitos did nothing to further my immunity to their poison now. Their poison left what feels like ivy burns all over my skin. Hopefully it'll go away in a few days if I leave it alone. I have a few Stimpaks but I'm saving them for real emergencies. For now I'll need to heal the real way. The slow way. The itchy way. 

I finished fortifying Red Rocket a few days ago. Not a lot of defense, but it looks like this area doesn't get a lot of traffic anyways, so I'll worry about it later. I don't think picket fences are gonna do me much good keeping bullets out.


	3. Red Rocket Terminal Log 3

What a week. I was scavenging around the East side of Concord when the dog and I heard a firefight break out. It felt like my heart stopped for a quick moment before I realized no one was shooting at or around me. I almost forgot the feeling. Almost. There were raiders shooting at someone on the balcony of the old museum. They didn't want to talk. 

The man on the balcony, Preston Garvey yelled down for help--the first person I've met who wasn't completely set on murdering me and looting my body. He was pinned down, so I had to fight my way there. I burned through a lot of my scavenged ammunition, but I got a lot of scrap, weapons, even a set of old Pre-War power armor. T-45. Preston said he's headed toward Sanctuary Hills with the rest of his group. 

It feels weird that they're headed to start a new life in the ruins of my old one. At least Codsworth will have someone new to talk to. ( I considered bringing him to Red Rocket, but I'm worried he would accidentally burn the place down. He's family, though, so I need him somewhere safe.) Preston answered some questions about what I'd seen so far. The two headed cow, the mosquitos. He said something about ghouls, too, but I haven't seen one yet. I remember people on the news talking about new radiation experiments that the rich are--were trying. 

He says I might have luck with Shaun if I head to Diamond City. From the description he gave me, it sounded like he was talking about Fenway Park. Of all places. 

Preston mentioned that he'll keep his people clear of my old home.


	4. Red Rocket Terminal Log 4

Cleared most of Concord. Met a few traveling merchants. Carla gave me basic directions to Diamond City. She told me it's probably a good idea to stay out of Boston for a little while until I orient myself. Or actually, in her words, to “Toughen up before I get my green ass ripped to shreds.” I trust her. Everyone out here is tough as nails. They'd have to be to live in a world like this.


	5. Red Rocket Terminal Log 5

It's been nearly a month since my last log. I've been busy. Every night I head back here and all but collapse onto the bed with the dog at my side. Sometimes I literally collapse here, leaving a bloody puddle on the floor. I feel like a pincushion sometimes. The Stimpaks help a lot, but it's only a matter of time before I sustain more serious injuries. The type that I can't sleep off or sew up on my own. 

The next morning, I'm almost always off at first light. For food, I do some trading with the settlers in Sanctuary now. Preston’s a good guy. He's helped a lot in answering any questions I have (For example: What's the big deal with those huge ass green guys?) and I've answered some of his questions in turn. He's a real nice guy. 

I've ran some odd jobs for him. I headed up to Tenpines Bluff and they had a raider problem up at the old Corvega factory. I hate the fact that nearly everyone in this wasteland is shoot first, don't ask any questions later other than “Does he have any good shit on him?”. I found a pipe rifle in Concord that made for a decent sniper rifle, and made as many clean kills as I could. I had to conserve the rest of my ammo though, so I went in with a machete I found in the speakeasy (side note: what the fuck. I don't know if it'd be more disturbing for that scene to be set up pre or post war). 

I heard so many raiders muttering to themselves about their regrets and the fact that they didn't want to kill people. I wanted to shout “Hey guys! If you actually stopped thinking with your guns for two seconds, we could just talk this over and figure everything out and nobody would have to kill anybody!” But nope. I feel like the worst, most hypocritical piece of shit, but what can I do? I'm not exactly intimidating anymore. I look like a newborn kitten who stumbled into war zone (according to Carla).

Kaela and I used to be the scariest looking couple in Sanctuary Hills, but that's only because we’re both veterans with visible scars. Once everyone knew us, we were actual puppy dogs that everyone doted on. Especially Kaela. She comes off a lot less friendly than I do, but as soon as everyone knows she’s actually a big softie it’s all over.   
Was. She was a big softie. 

God, I miss her.


	6. Red Rocket Terminal Log 6

I'm slowly inching closer to Boston. I picked up a broadcast on the Pip-Boy Radio that strengthens the closer I get to Cambridge. I can't make out the words yet, but the tone sounds official, even military. I'm interested, but it's hard getting through the shit-hole that's Lexington. The Corvega raider company mentioned their takeover of Lexington and Concord (oddly enough, to get at that old woman Preston was traveling with, Mama Murphy) and I figured they'd disperse with Gristle and Jared gone but I guess they're more loosely organized than I expected. I'm gonna try to get through there a different way. 

I met a few settlers on their way to Sanctuary and even approached a guy with his kid. It was late one evening and I knew I wasn't gonna make it back to Red Rocket, but spotted a campfire and figured I’d see if it was another settler. Nope. This guy, Clinton with his daughter Charlie. Clinton was cautious, but once he saw the dog he relaxed. (Apparently he's some kind of a local legend/hometown hero type. I asked the dog about it and he only gave me a big, knowing smile) Clinton let me share the fire with them and offered their spare sleeping bag to me. Charlie was a real nice girl. It seems that they'd been on the road for a while. From what she said, it seems her mom died recently. I'm shocked how she's still so nice and kind despite what she must have been through. These wastelanders grow up far tougher than any pre-war schmuck I ever knew. Including Ms. Dickwad-Asshole, my Drill Sargeant. Wonder if she's still kicking around as a ghoul. God I hope not. I just got chills thinking about it. 

Anyways, it got me thinking about how that could have just as easily been me and Shaun. Except he'd be just a few months old. I don't think a baby would have an easy time dodging bullets. Would I even want him to grow up in a place like this? Would he even survive to grow up?


	7. Red Rocket Terminal Log 7

Holy shit. 

I feel like I start a lot of my logs with “I” or “it’s”. So I'm gonna shake it up this time and start with a “Holy Shit”. I made it to Cambridge and got in range of the signal. I would have listened to it had I not been stepping on mines and getting tackled by feral ghouls from the second I got there. I'm missing a chunk from my arm and my ankle and dislocated my shoulder. Not to mention, I was thrown into a building by a mine blast twice and probably bruised my ribs, but hey I could have been one leg lighter so I'm not complaining. I mean, I am complaining about the other stuff. I am 100% complaining about that.  
Ferals chased me right into the source of the signal, the Cambridge police station. A massive horde of ferals, wave after wave were rushing the station. It took almost an hour of nonstop fighting for everything to calm down. There were loads of corpses and ashes everywhere. I blacked out just a little from blood loss and fatigue. Or so I'm told. Just for a minute.  
My dog licked my face until I woke up. First thing I saw was my dog’s dopey smile. Second thing I saw was a set of T-60 Power Armor crouched behind him. The guy asked if I was injured, and I'm pretty sure I said some fucking dumb shit that I can't remember (God, I hope I don't have a concussion too). Undeterred, the guy thanked me for my help and offered to take me inside the station and fix me up. I couldn't say no at that point because there was no way in heaven or hell that I was walking (limping?) back to Red Rocket. I pushed him for some info about himself and what in the name of God he was doing here.  
I guess I'm pretty convincing when I'm all doped out on pain relievers (thank you Haylen), because I learned a lot from Mr. Paladin Danse. I haven't heard anyone mention the Brotherhood of Steel yet. I'll have to ask Preston some more about them when I head to Sanctuary in two days. They seem organized and dedicated, even though they've lost contact with their main group. I noticed the body of one of their teammates outside on the wall. It seems they've sustained heavy casualties. They’re only down to three people, and one is heavily injured (and also an asshole).  
Danse set my shoulder back in place and Haylen patched the rest of me up the best she could. I didn't let them use their own supplies on me, even though Haylen kept offering them to me. The asshole, Rhys, kept complaining the entire time before Danse told him to shut up. In much nicer words though.  
I'm frankly surprised there's anything remotely military-like left on the East Coast. I always figured they would carpet bomb the coasts until nobody and nothing was left to rebuild from.  
It's a welcome surprise in a world of raiders, stragglers, and monsters. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------  
Red Rocket Terminal Log 7.5

I'm fairly certain I have a concussion. 

Danse asked me if I'd be up for joining him on a mission once I'm healed up. He needs another gun but Rhys’ injuries are serious enough to keep him out of the field for weeks. I'm fine with it. I'm hoping he'll trust me a little more once he's 100% sure I'm not some wastelander looking to make a quick buck off of him.  
I assured him I had military and power armor experience. He seemed pleased. Oddly enough, he didn't ask me from where or when I had military experience. I guess there's more than one military around these days.


	8. Red Rocket Terminal Log 8

Danse and I headed to ArcJet systems to grab some old piece of tech for the transmitter on Cambridge Station. It was oddly quiet as we went in. The old pre-war defenses were disabled by something Danse calls a Synth. A synthetic man. 

The ones we saw looked like moving mannequins with robotic parts exposed, but Danse warned me that some synths look exactly like real humans. They're flesh and blood, and can't be distinguished from real humans until after they're dead. They were created by the descendants of some Old CIT students and professors. I always figured they'd find a way to survive the apocalypse. No one knows precisely why this Institute is sending synths to the Wasteland. In this case, I assume to reclaim old tech but Danse says that they replace people, innocent settlers with synths. Why? It couldn't be for any good reason. 

Oh, God. I almost forgot the most embarrassing part of it all--

I was restoring power to the elevators when synths literally started dropping from the sky. Danse covered me and I tried to work as fast as I could. In my rush, I failed to notice a used oil can and tripped. Like a goddamn tv show, my hand slammed into a bagasse red button that said Caution or Warning or Danger or some shit like that. At first it didn't do anything aside from lock the door I used to come in. But a countdown started (and by this point synths were still falling from God knows where) and Danse was locked in the chamber. 

That's when I noticed the bigass rocket engine suspended from the ceiling. It fired off, killed the horde of synths. Danse was in a corner and I couldn't see him. When the doors unlocked I sprinted out and he was crumpled on the floor ( or as crumpled as one can be in a suit of power armor). Holy shit he wasn't even mad after I nearly killed him. I think he even liked it. Defeating all the synths with a bang like that. 

When we retrieved the tech, he asked me if I'd like to join the Brotherhood. I told him I'd think it over more but it was basically yes. I don't know why I said yes. It's dangerous, far more dangerous than any war zone in Anchorage. Kaela told me once that the military was simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to her. I get the feeling that I'm gonna feel like that this time around.


	9. Red Rocket Terminal Log 9

It's been two weeks.   
I spend most of my nights at Red Rocket but occasionally when I get pinned down or night comes quicker than I expect I'll sleep at Cambridge Station. There's an extra sleeping bag the Danse says I'm welcome to. Even on the nights I stay there, I've still never seen Danse out of his power armor. Rhys mopes and snaps at me but Haylen is always happy to chat. Everyone loves when the dog shows up. 

I've been thinking of giving him a name. He probably has one--I know he has one--but I need something to call him in the meantime. I guess since I call him it anyways, I'll start referring to him as Buddy. Anyways, Buddy’s always a hit with everyone at the station. I've caught Danse feeding him potato chips and kneeling to pet him several times now. 

Danse asked me (since I'm able to move more easily through the wasteland) to see if I could find any leads on the old Brotherhood patrol that went missing. I'm planning on heading out tomorrow morning to search for clues. I've helped Haylen acquire a bit of tech from pre-war ruins. And every once in a while, Rhys barks out a new place for me to head to obliterate everything in sight. He's a little too intense about all this cleansing. It's more than a little creepy. Haylen assured me he's normally not like this...at least sometimes. 

Ironically enough, Haylen’s missions always tend to be more dangerous, more terrifying, and more difficult than Rhys’s.


	10. Red Rocket Terminal Log 10

I'm lucky to be alive; luckier than normal. I got bit by a giant rat and caught some kind of fever sickness. I was on a main road and I collapsed. Trashcan Carla was about half a day’s walk away and Buddy ran the whole way to get her. She brought me to Sanctuary so Preston could look after me. I was bedridden for a few days but later in the week I was able to head back to Red Rocket. Preston or Sturges, or sometimes both came out to check on me at least twice a day, and always brought stew. 

The Sanctuary settlers are good people.


	11. Red Rocket Terminal Log 11

Oh God. I thought I had mostly recovered from the sickness, but apparently not. I headed to Cambridge when I thought I was strong enough so I could present my findings on the lost Brotherhood patrol. I was feeling kinda shitty near the end of the trek, out of breath and sweating like a dog. I got inside and started reporting to Danse. Then I basically fell over, whacked my head on the counter, and started babbling to my dead wife that we were out of Nuka Cola. Rhys laughed so hard he walked into a collapsed wooden beam, Haylen sprinted to me, worried about my (apparent) concussion. Danse carried me to the spare mattress so I wouldn't bang my head anywhere else. 

Haylen’s having me stay put for a few days to make sure I don't hit my head on anything and become some raider cannibal’s lunch. I was going to object but Danse insisted. The whole talking to Kaela thing seemed to kinda put him off. He told me to sleep it off and give him the report tomorrow. I'm fine, honestly. 

Luckily I have a blank holotape from Bedford Station so I can use the Station Terminal to type and transfer to my Pip-Boy. I hate using dials to type on this thing. Though technically I'm not supposed to be reading or writing at all. Oh well. It's not like Buddy’s gonna rat me out.


	12. Red Rocket Terminal Log 12

Only a short update. Danse was very pleased that I convinced Knight Brandis to rejoin. I spent waaaaaaay too long building a secure hangar bay off the back of Red Rocket, but it was very worth it. Carla, who's already a hell of a badass lady spotted me some supplies in exchange for some fresh wasteland BBQ. She gave me entirely too much for a couple of measly radstag steaks, but refused to take any back. Hell, I'd be dead 3 times over if it weren't for Trashcan Carla. I gotta start thinking of ways to pay her back.


	13. Red Rocket Terminal Log 13

Back before I got sick, I met that fleet of self-autonomous gardening robots. The ones from Greygarden. I remember them being featured on TV and in the news prewar. Kaela thought it was amazing, that we should take Shaun there when they opened tours to the public. Good to hear they're still going strong. Overseer White told me the water lines were all messed up though. At first I thought maybe just regular irradiated water was coming through the pipes. But she turned the lines on and the water was murky and stung my hand, leaving red splotches across my skin. 

Anyways, I was feeling better (if you count really fucking bored as better) so the patrol finally let me leave the Station for longer than two days. I'm sure Rhys is real happy about it all. He moped on the other side of the Station all week, sending glares my way when he could.

I didn't feel like going home just yet so I walked a short ways to the water treatment plant for recon. Well. Recon turned into running from a charging radstag who surprised Buddy and I. Then running turned into fighting the super mutants camped down at the plant; let's be honest it was still mostly running because they have a SHITTON of dogs and one of them had a GODDAMN ROCKET LAUNCHER. Where is everyone finding Rocket Launchers from Pre-War Boston? I don't remember this many floating around the Commonwealth before the bombs. 

I got inside of the plant, expecting more super mutants but instead got...crabs. Giant, mutated crabs. Everywhere. No wonder why I had a rash on my hand. The water’s probably straight up concentrated crab juice(?). I was somewhat sneaky for about 3 seconds. Then I saw them, they saw me, I sprinted, they scuttled after me. Didn't know where I was sprinting to at the time, but I found an area that was easy to secure with Buddy’s help. I lured them in carefully and tried to take each one out individually. And yes, of course I grabbed the rocket launcher. Missiles were the only thing that downed these guys fast. I had to lower myself to different levels in order to drain the plant. Fucking...there is almost nothing as fucking scary as dropping 15-20ft from a thin metal pipe onto a thinner, wetter, blood, water, and gut encrusted metal pipe where fucking HUGE crabs are snapping at your feet. I managed it somehow. I couldn't shoot through the crab armor so I needed something that would explode under them. I had the perfect thing. Grenades. 

It took so long to clear the plant out. At one point, I ran back up to Buddy in the safe room and trained all those crabs behind me so I could clear them safely, but it backfired and we had to fight them on the metal catwalks. Fucking crabs. Couldn't it be mutated butterflies or something for once? 

We cleared the plant of everything. Crabs, water, all that good stuff and got the water flowing clean (or relatively clean by wasteland standards) again. And found some scrap that traders might be interested in. 

Buddy and I are sleeping like the dead tonight.


	14. Red Rocket Terminal Log 14

I visited Kaela this morning. I headed down to the Vault to clear some scrap out and look for extra copper. Kaela never cared much for these things, but I left some Hubflowers. 

Each day out here, each hour feels like a weeksworth of time before. It's amazing how slowly time passes when there's a whole lot less...stuff. I've almost lost track of the time since I woke up. I was sitting there, in front of my wife, my best friend in the world’s corpse, checking the days I've been awake, wondering if Shaun is dead or even less likely, still out there. 

Buddy settled at my feet while I dry sobbed like a baby for an hour. The fact that is was dry sobbing made it even worse--like my body couldn't handle the stress of generating tears. If Kaela were here, she'd help me to my feet, and hug me tight for hours and tell me everything was A-Okay. 

Kaela’s not here.


	15. Red Rocket Terminal Log 15

Much to Rhys’ surprise, behind all my joking insubordination, masterful misdirection, and charming visage, lies a human with actual emotions. Ones that he rubbed the wrong way one too many times. My fuse has been much shorter than usual. So, I might have exploded a bit at him.

In the end, Danse sided with me but I can't shake the feeling he's disappointed in me. Haylen as well. 

Yes, I did punch a table, then a wall, then Rhys. (The wall only broke because it was weak from the atomic blast that went off 200 years ago, or rather, two months ago for me) As far as I'm concerned, Rhys is all bark and no bite. 

I'm taking some time off to be on my own. There's a note I found about a Federal Stockpile. Assuming it hasn't been plundered to hell, I can probably find a decent amount of supplies in there. It's further south than I normally travel, but I think I'll be okay. I'm becoming more acclimated to wasteland creatures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol if you think Atticus sounds and acts like a teenaged girl its because I wrote most of these logs while I was half asleep


	16. Red Rocket Terminal Log 16

The newest member of the Red Rocket crew is Darla, the “junkyard dog”! I met a good man named Gene on the road to the Stockpile. He raises puppies for a living then sells them to good owners. She's a cute pit bull mix, with a badass bandana. I reached the Stockpile with Buddy and Darla, but it's too dark for me to properly mount an attack yet, so we found some nearby shelter to sleep in for the night. I might have Buddy and Darla stay here while I clear the stockpile. I intend to make good on my promise to Gene about keeping his darling Darla safe.


	17. Red Rocket Terminal Log 17

Hmm. So things have been both busy and not busy for me. A few days ago I recovered enough food, water, weapons, and munitions to support Danse’s squad for a year. I recovered a decent amount of scrap too. I'm cooling down from the situation at Cambridge, realizing what a punk I was acting like. 

I'm still definitely keeping away for a few days. In the meantime, I went to Sanctuary. I saw Carla go by earlier that day and figured she'd be stopping in Sanctuary Hills for the afternoon. The cute one, Sturges, asked for some help getting established in Sanctuary. I really couldn't say no. They've done a good job already, but can't buy a lot of scrap from Carla and I have endless extra scrap from Red Rocket anyways. They've got a farm set up and they've promised to give me a share whenever I need it. 

I'm only really involved with Preston and Sturges, but Mr. Long and I talked once for a long, long time. The group’s been through hell. It's understandable how battered they seem. If I find myself with extra scrap and free time, I’ll head over to improve defenses and resources for them. And if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind hanging around Sturges some more. He's seems like the type of guy who I'd like to share a couple beers with, you know?

Darla’s the sweetest dog in the Commonwealth. Her and Buddy get on just fine. They're like brother and sister. Hell, who knows, maybe they were brother and sister. I built some dog houses over in my power armor bay. It's secure, well lit, and close enough by that I feel comfortable that they're safe. Plus Buddy can sneak up in the middle of the night and jump on my legs without clanging through half the station. 

If I ever come across Gene again, I'll see if he's interested in selling to me once more. He'll be happy to know his dogs are going to a good home.


	18. Red Rocket Terminal Log 18

Yeah, yeah. I am putting off going to the Cambridge police station. I'd send a letter but my friendly neighborhood mail person seems to have been vaporized in the blast. In all honesty, I'll get around to it. I have to drop off the stockpile supplies anyways and reassure Haylen that I didn't do something stupid to get myself killed. 

My plan is to haul the supplies by and if I need to, to spend the night before I head out to Diamond City. Carla says a caravaneer she knows is passing through Cambridge tomorrow on their way to the Great Green Jewel, and caravaneers never say no to an extra gun, especially if it's free. 

Another thing. I can't get it off my mind. I don't regret infiltrating the Stockpile, but when I assign myself to these tasks, I feel like I'm back in Anchorage again. No thinking about my actions, just throwing myself into the fray and trying to dodge bullets that are already scraping at my skin. It's easy to forget that these are real people. Actual human beings with lives and families. I looted the leader of the Stockpile raiders, a woman named Red. I just shoved a load of notes and letters into my pockets, and only just looked at them this morning. Sure, they scream disgusting things and leave heads and dead bodies everywhere. But they mostly do it to scare people off. They're people with reasons to fight and kill others. I, on the other hand, come invade their home thoughtlessly to steal their food, water, weapons, whatever and literally destroy their lives. How am I any better than them? The answer: I'm not. I'm worse. Far worse. 

Red found food and shelter for her people at the stockpile. The heads and dead bodies? Other raiders from a group who stole her sister. Hardly sane, but at least it makes some kind of sense. Why did I kill them? Urge.


	19. Red Rocket Terminal Log 19

Okay, so yes. I laughed hard as soon as I saw a Diamond City guard. I think the only reason he didn't shoot me was because of the Caravan I was with. I can't help it. The most secure place in godforsaken Boston is a baseball diamond. Sure, it's not just any baseball diamond, but a baseball field’s a baseball field, you know?  
Buddy ran right up to some lady standing at the gates and hopped around her for treats. Name’s Piper. She's a journalist. I know her type, but honestly she doesn't seem too bad. Now that I'm not under oath as a US soldier anymore, I couldn't give less of a damn about classified government secrets. I promised her an interview which I may or may not come to regret. She pointed me in the direction of a detective who specializes in kidnappings. Problem is, he's been kidnapped. Or so people assume.  
Cricket paid me even though I told her I didn't expect anything. Crazy lady, but it's hard not to like her. I don't even think she does drugs, she's just naturally like that. With the caps I got I paid for a room at the Dugout Inn.  
And, I did end up going to Cambridge. Haylen was more overjoyed with seeing me than seeing the supplies, and she actually crushed me and Buddy into a hug (she's far stronger than she looks). Rhys was uncharacteristically quiet, which was fantastic. Danse did that “I'm worried about you” eyebrow/sad smile thing Kaela did all the time. I rolled my eyes and told him where I was headed this time.


	20. Red Rocket Terminal Log 20

It's been less than a week since I wrote one of these,but so much has happened. It feels like it's been years. How to start...at the part where I found Nick Valentine? Or the part where I murdered the man who killed my wife? I suppose Nick’s as good a place as any. 

He's a synth detective. I don't know much about synths, but Nick...he's relaxing to be around. I trust him. He knows Buddy, too, and Buddy trusts him. We walked out of Skinny Malone’s Vault freely and headed to Diamond City. We were on the trail of a guy named Kellogg pretty quickly. Got the keys to his place, found a scent for Buddy to track. Followed it to Fort Hagen. It took 2 consecutive days to get from rescuing Nick Valentine to the doors of the Fort. All the while I was thrumming with energy, and I tried to sleep before I went in but couldn't stay under for more than 20 minutes. 

Kellogg didn't stand a chance. He tried to get me to turn back, tried to make killing him not worth my while. At the moment…I wanted to kill him ten times over. Fifty times over. Hundreds of times over. Dismantling him and his synths was too easy, their deaths only took seconds. I was so sure I’d feel relieved or overjoyed the second Kellogg drew his last breath. But nothing. I collapsed from sheer exhaustion inside Hagen. I was awake for more than 4 days. I barely ate or drank anything. Buddy put his face in my lap and kept watch while I slept. 

But the fun doesn't stop there. I woke up to a distant sound--almost like air raid sirens; at first I froze with fear, then I heard the far off voice. We ran upstairs and outside. The Brotherhood of Steel had entered the Commonwealth. I damn near cried at the sight. I was too tired to follow or head to Cambridge, so I watched the birds skirting across the horizon as I hiked back home. I was in range of the station for a short time during the trek-- over the short wave I heard Danse ask me to meet tomorrow morning for important Brotherhood business. It'll be interesting to actually talk with him for more than 3 seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once we hit #24 I have an accompanying fic that isn't in shitty 1st POV that I'll put up. Look forward to that.


End file.
